At some point that day I made the call that I needed to get Cygnus something for Christmas.

He got me something last year, and he’d only done more for me since; how ungrateful would I look if I didn’t get him a gift in return? I had some money to spare—I was very frugal, all things considered; one of the few things I thank my father for teaching me—so more or less anything a sixteen-year-old boy could want was on the table.

The problem was figuring out what a sixteen-year-old boy would want, or, more accurately, what Cygnus would want. I thought about getting him a model like he got me last year, since I knew that’d be a slam-dunk, but I didn’t want him to think I was just mindlessly aping his gesture. There was more to Cygnus than what we watched on TV, I knew that, so all I had to do was figure out what.

And it had to be something I could buy in town, within walking distance, because I didn’t want anyone else to know I was doing this. Unit 6 was a gossipy bunch. Secrets were fleeting—unless you were Bell and intentionally spread misinformation about yourself to counteract it.

By that time it was around four o’clock, and I was back in the common room after wandering around and giving this whole situation some thought. I’d come up with a vague enough outline of a plan for figuring out what Cygnus wanted; and it started with asking him if he wanted to get some coffee. Hopefully, I could get him on one of his tangents again, where he’d just talk for thirty minutes or more, and from that I could figure out a good match of a gift.

But step one was asking him to get coffee with me.

After that I could really zero-in on a good gift. It’d be great; he’d love it, whatever it was. And I’d look so capable, and we’d both be so happy.

But step one was asking him out.

He’d come back to the room and was just sitting at the big table with a book. His newest sword was leaning up against the back wall like it always was. We were the only two people there.

But step one—

I swallowed. There was nothing to it, right? All this pretense in my head for no reason at all.

I was sure that Cygnus felt the same way about someone, except Cygnus almost definitely didn’t worry about the things I was worrying about.

What was I worrying about? I couldn’t really quantify it. That he’d say no? I didn’t want anything from him; all I wanted was to hear him talk. There was nothing more to it than that. I just wanted a bit more to go off when I went shopping in the next few days.

I picked up the stuffed frog next to me on my bed, bounced it on my palm a few times, watching its feet limply jump up and down. The longer I thought about this, the harder it would get. The longer I waited, the less time I had to think about getting a gift. The less time I had to get a gift, the weaker the gift would be.

It all lined up perfectly for me to do this right now, with no hesitation, because every second that went by was a fractional percent taken away from the quality of my actions.

I could feel it slipping away, feel the gift literally shrinking in my hands. I couldn’t tell you the shape or color of the gift but I could tell you that every ticking second it became smaller and lighter and more translucent.

Until the twenty-fourth would roll around and it would be dust in my palm.

So I had to—

I needed to—

I slid off the bed to the floor, and I walked near Cygnus, and I asked him: “Do you want to get some coffee?”

And I was ghostly pale.

Cygnus turned around and looked at me blankly for a second. I could not for the life of me figure out what he was thinking—again, I found myself wishing I was a telepath instead of a water-key. The water-manipulation life was cool and all, but knowing everyone’s thoughts would be so much better.

Oh well. Un-luck of the draw, I guess.

“I had my second coffee already today,” he said. “I’m all set on that.”

“Oh,” I replied.

My plan didn’t account for him saying no. Maybe that was what I was worried about? Even with hindsight on my side, I can’t say for sure.

Cygnus looked at me again. Something in his expression changed; something I couldn’t quantify.

He said, “But I could go for a good muffin right about now.”

0 0 0

There’s something to be said for the thrill of a plan working to perfection. After that brief hang-up, we left for town straight away, went to the coffee shop I guess we went to often enough to qualify as “frequenting”, and set up.

He got his muffin; I got myself a second coffee, which I almost never do. I wanted the extra caffeine boost so I could pay extra attention to all the little details Cygnus let through. It could be the smallest thing that tipped me off; so I didn’t want to miss a single word. I got it black, though, to discourage me from drinking the whole thing too fast. Plus, I knew that Cygnus generally disapproved of sugary coffee drinks.

It was only as I was bringing it back to the table that I realized I bought a version of a drink I specifically disliked to discourage me from drinking it.

Stupid; but I shoved the thought aside. I wasn’t beating myself up over the small stuff that day. Bigger fish to fry, et cetera.

So I dropped an ice cube into my coffee to cool it down, took a sip and grimaced at the taste.

“Don’t you hate black coffee?” Cygnus asked me.

“I’m coming around to it,” I said, taking another sip.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I want to gain an appreciation for the beans.”

He chuckled a bit. “Huh. Well, how’s it taste?”

“Beany.”

Cygnus took a bite of his muffin, careful to lean over the table to avoid getting any crumbs on his blue silk shirt. Cygnus owned a lot of silk shirts, for some reason. I thought about maybe getting him one. I didn’t know what colors he had, though, and God forbid I got him a duplicate, so I crumpled that idea up and threw it out.

Then he said, “You know what I want for Christmas?”

I froze solid. “Um—”

“I knew it,” he said, grinning. “I mean, not to put you on the spot or anything, but I figured that’s what this was about.”

All I could say was, “How did you know?”

“Well, you’ve looked super stressed out all day,” he said. “And I was wondering what it could possibly be about, and then I remembered that it’s Christmastime, and I got you something last year, and it seemed in line with you that you’d want to get me something this year. It’s kind of unlike you to take initiative on something like this—” he gestured to the table and the surrounding coffee shop—“no offense, so I put two and two together and took a guess.

“Anyway, I could really use a new watch,” he said. “That would be cool.”

I swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll keep that in mind, I guess.”

“I mean, if you think of anything better than a watch, that’s fine too,” he said, “But, like…don’t stress about this. You don’t have to get anything if you don’t want to. If it’s stressing you out too much, don’t bother. We really don’t take Christmas all that’s seriously around here. It’s not a big deal.”

We fell quiet for a moment. He took another bite of his muffin. I took another sip of my coffee, feeling deflated.

All that worrying, and for what?

“Did you do your shopping already?” I asked him.

“Oh, yeah,” Cygnus said. “I’m long done. I got kind of lucky this year and found good stuff for…everyone except Bell, I think. I even got Ava something, and I think this is the first time I’ve done that.”

“Huh.” As a companion thought, I added: “How long is “long done?””

He shrugged. “I bought you your gift in August.”

I couldn’t keep the surprise out. “August?”

“Yeah. Fun fact; if you buy people stuff for Christmas really early and you know a good hiding spot or two, it makes the holiday season a lot less stressful.”

“Man,” I said. “I—I should do that.”

“It’s what I do,” he said, finishing his muffin. While chewing, he said: “I just keep an eye out all year for good stuff. If I find something better for someone than what I’ve already gotten, I just keep the old thing and line up the new one. System works pretty good for me. Yoru and Ava shop that way for each other, too.”

“Everyone’s so good at this,” I said, absently.

“Not really,” Cygnus said. “I’m just really good at it. Yoru sucks at getting gifts for non-Ava people. Benji’s not amazing at it either.”

“Benji gets people gifts?”

“Once in a while,” Cygnus said. “He got me a really nice bottle of chartreuse a while back. I think that’s the only good gift he’s ever given someone, though, and honestly, I think Ava liked it more than I did.”

I tried to imagine Benji shopping for anyone, and I just couldn’t do it. My mind’s-eye picture of him was just too sour.

“Hell,” Cygnus went on, “I even got Prochazka a gift this year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Kind of funny in the wake of the whole Loybol thing, but it’s another trinket for his desk, I guess.”

“What is it?”

“Promise you won’t ruin it?” he asked.

I nodded, eagerly. I wouldn’t. I was great at keeping secrets—years of never talking about myself were finally paying off, in exactly this moment.

Cygnus glanced around, checking to see if the coast was clear, and then leaned in close and said, “I got him a #1 Dad mug.”